songs loop through wrinkles in brain using notes as rope and crescendos as introductions
shifting memories into solid full-breasted tears
falling down grooved cheeks unimpressed by the wetness or pomp in their circumstance
grafting pieces of what happened into magic hour cinematography drenched in sun soaked color or cemetery blacks and whites
like technicolor imaginings of what should have been…
_this ani song reduces me_into one little girl grasping at the fingertips of multiple others_
this is anthem for dead best friend. anthem for ex. anthem for girl i used to be.
because love is a piano dropped from a four-story window and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time….